Gravitas
by Vergil's Inferno
Summary: How professional can you really be when your new boss is the most financially successful individual in the state, and his gorgeous twin sons now work under you in the corporate ladder, all aiming to bring out the best and worst of you on your first unofficial day? Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry, Sparda, Dante, Vergil, or Nero. You already knew that.


The two men combed the web for a possible candidate for the job. The big boss wasn't a fan of the whole interview process, especially for the key players who would make up his team, so he would search and search until his fingers bled, typing in different combinations of keywords into different search engines to finally find what he was looking for. Thankfully, this one didn't take too long: a few added job specifications, a few asterisks and inverted commas and he had a hit. His assistant looked over his shoulder and examined the resume on the computer screen. "He seems about right."

A few more clicks and they analysed the prospective employee's social media history and found absolutely nothing: a small Facebook page, an unused twitter account, and an endless amount of talented pieces on display on DeviantArt proved for this boy to be completely harmless. They liked what they saw; not only was he over-qualified for the work they could offer, he was currently unemployed and lived an isolated life; unemployed, but with tons of money in the bank. He was exactly what they needed. "I will get Azazel to do an information sweep on the boy; I should have his contact details within the hour, then you can make the call. What do you say boss?"

The man in front of the computer clicked his shoulders into place – the same familiar prickle wracked through his body when he came into contact with a demon, or part demon at least. The man in the photo had features near perfect, and there was no way he was human. He sported the same white hair as his sons, and every picture he found cemented his belief that he carried tainted blood. Pushing those facts aside, he was the ideal candidate for the position that opened at the corporation. "Please. Let's snag this one before anyone can get their hands on him."

His assistant left the office in haste. "I will arrange for Balthasar to give the boy a tour and an outline of his duties tomorrow, granted that he accepts." He hung on the door watching his boss cautiously.

The big man smiled. "Make it so the boy has no choice."

Nero had many strange phone calls during his twenty five years of life, but none as peculiar as to the one two moments ago. He was simply given an address, time, and dress code. He wasn't sure on whether he would make the journey across the city, but his curiosity would override his conscience and he would unknowingly find himself going there anyway. He was an early riser, so he had ample time to cross everything off the strange list: after locating his destination by GPS, a quick shower and a cruel pillage of his wardrobe, he glanced at the clock in his kitchen as he left his apartment. The vanta-black three-piece suit he wore exhumed professionalism and sophistication – it hugged his body and his curves tastefully, and it cried to be ripped off piece by piece. Nero opted for public transport and made his way to a tall dark purple building on the other side of the city. It surprised him that it only took thirty minutes to get there, so he decided to kill time by entering the humungous building and initiating small talk with the receptionist. The glass doors opened to an immaculate foyer layered in complex black and grey patterns; the waiting area to his left and right was decorated in modern, comfortable furniture, and an amass of luxurious and famous paintings lined the four walls enclosing the informal space. Nero's breath caught in his throat at the beauty of the simplicity of the room, and he got excited at the prospects that awaited him on the fifty second floor. He took short strides to the information desk and halted upon hearing his name. "Are you perhaps Nero?" The receptionist conspicuously squinted his eyes, making sure he had his ducks in a row.

"Yes, I'm here for the job interview?"

"No. No interview. You technically have the job." The man behind the desk tapped on his keyboard. "If you are here at one in the afternoon in an irresistible suit and tie, you are either here to be given a tour of the building and your duties or are just messed up enough to wear a suit like that on a humid day and happen to stroll into the one building where everyone wears the same attire." He gave Nero a seductive wink – his day was getting off to a good start. "I'm going to ring up the big boss and have him collect you here downstairs. Would you like some coffee while you wait?" He dialled quickly and awaited a response at the other end of the line.

Nero could get used to this. "Yes please. No sugar, sugar." He highlighted the word 'sugar' in a southern twang; the man behind the desk had no time to blush when a voice came on the line, predicting the purpose of the call. A 'no problem' ended it, and he rounded the desk to Nero's side with a pen, opening the colossal leather-bound visitor's book at its place keeper. "Just in case you get lost." He handed Nero the pen. "And don't get used to it – it's just this once. Next time you have to make it yourself." Nero completed the each column with the required information and followed his new friend stationed with poise at the Nespresso machine on the other side of the room. He popped a hazelnut capsule into the not surprising deep purple mechanism and flipped a switch; a calming hum initiated the process of crafting his drink. He breathed in the nutty scent as the capsule was pierced, allowing the mix of flavours flow into one another and out the spout, pouring the hot steamy goodness into a deep mug bearing the company logo. "It's really hot, so be careful."

The elevator door slid open as the mug was warily handed to him; the room was met with a deep gasp reverberating through the walls and the new recruit turned his gaze to the direction everyone was facing. Nero was a man deeply in love with his coffee, and even he stopped mid sip to drink in the mass stepping into the foyer: the tall man bore black stylish expensive sneakers, a pair of purple jeans, a white, figure hugging shirt, chunky black scarf artistically woven around his neck, black leather gloves and a purple trench coat with big round silver buttons – Nero mentally gave himself an 'oh my fuck' at the figure – as the benign creature sensually drove his strong slender fingers through his velvety snow white hair. His baby blue eyes, supple skin, and irresistibly sharp facial features melted the hearts of everyone in the waiting area. Nero knew he was in trouble.

The man explored the room and located his target. With a charming smile that could bring titanium to its knees, he walked straight over to Nero and spoke softly. "I see you've met our coffee machine." He was looking straight at the receptionist and not the machine itself. "Don't believe anything he says; he stands at this thing twenty four seven, hoping I wouldn't catch him drink six cups before lunch." The seriousness in his tone dissolved as his employee looked worried, and a shoulder rub eased the tension in his body. The bigger man leaned to his ear and whispered. "It'll be our little secret, okay?" Nero tried masking a shaky breath and he, forgetting the temperature of the coffee, took a deep swill at the boiling liquid in his hands and it burned a trench along his throat. The internal wound didn't take much time to heal, but the initial shock of the forced heat sliding down his oesophagus lingered to the tip of his tongue. His face resembled a cat regurgitating the last bit of fur from its stomach, and his potential new boss fought long and hard to release his inner kid and burst into laughter. "It happens to the best of us, kid. Giulio, if you would please excuse us, we have urgent matters to attend to." A small bow signalled his leave, and the boss grabbed Nero by his arm and led him to the elevator, speeding to floor fifty two. "You okay, son?"

Nero took another sip of his coffee. "Perfectly fine, thanks." A curt nod caused a half-smile to appear on the other man's lips and as much as Nero tried, he couldn't wrench his eyes off him. He stole peeks through his heavy white fringe that swayed with his head – the man was the embodiment of proficiency, playfulness, solemnity, determination, and success and he couldn't help but be in awe of so many factors working harmoniously in one single being. Up until this point he had spent three minutes with him: how he decidedly latched those qualities onto someone he barely knew baffled his mind… in the good way.

The elevator dinged once again and Nero found himself in what could only be described as a testosterone fish tank: the office homed high glass partitions separating the workers from each other; some areas were crystal clear and others were glazed over, sound proofing some personal telephone calls; it looked like a subterranean maze with heightened tension and stress adding to its attractiveness with handsome faces in formal attire distorted by the glass splitting them. It was a spectacle to behold owing to the desire and passion that willingly radiated from each of the employees individually. He felt a small pat on his back and he turned to the man standing next to him. He jerked his head to a specific spot in the office and Nero gaped at two identical heads peeping up behind from normal glass panels; from what Nero could see, they were identical in every way apart from their hair styles. One had his hair elegantly swept back and the other had it shamelessly forward, hiding most of his handsome face. The man scratched at his mess of a fringe and his blue eyes glimmered through his shaggy locks, making Nero inhale sharply at them. They were the sexiest pair of twins he had ever laid eyes on, and they immediately made him appreciate this job more. Nero burned their positions to memory as the boss led him to an office to the right of the fish tank, shutting the big oak doors behind them. "Please take a seat. I'll grab your official contract and we can get started." Nero did as he was told and waited patiently as the man left his office. He grabbed a magazine off the pine desk in front of him and comfortable – immersing himself in the pages – and knowing full well the next interruption would be the start of a brand new future for him.

The twins followed their father to the office next to the one holding the new recruit. The one in purple discreetly locked them inside, claiming the comfortable leather chair on the other side of the room. "Sit." Each twin swapped glances and obeyed their order, sitting in the smaller chairs in front of him. "I need you to wind him up."

"Who?"

It really wasn't that difficult. "I'm sure you saw him-"

"Of course Vergil did. I sensed his cock twitch when he laid eyes on our new boss-"

"OUR NEW BOSS?" It was clear Vergil had no idea their old one intended to leave. "What happened to Balthasar?"

"He wishes to embark on new endeavours. I cannot stop him reaching his full potential somewhere else. This is what he wants to do, and I respect his decision." He shifted to get more relaxed in the chair, tucking his left leg underneath his body. "You know how he is when he's made up his mind."

"Then why the hell couldn't you have chosen one of us as his replacement?" Vergil was genuinely baffled at his decision, but his words held no hurt or menace.

His sibling interjected. "Because we would fight endlessly, brother. If father chose either of us, we would most likely strangle one another before any work got done." He had a point. "And we all know how jealous you get if I just so happen to do my job right."

"Thank you Dante. He wouldn't have accepted that explanation if I had said it." Vergil had a softer spot for Dante than he did his own father; in the time that he left the house to go with his brother to do their bit in eradicating demons, Dante stayed home and looked after Vergil and their mother. Even though he was his younger brother, Vergil looked up to the man sitting next to him. In many ways, Dante could be considered the older brother of the two owing to his experience, logic, drive, and character. He was better suited to run his department alone, but he outright refused the position unless Vergil worked alongside him; Dante never ventured to life-changing situations without his brother in tow – it just didn't seem right.

"But father-"

"No buts. Ignus and I have already done a full background check on the boy. He's squeaky clean. No arrest warrants, no dirty laundry, nothing illegal, not even a speeding ticket. Work is his life, and it is highly unlikely he would do anything to harm his job or this company. In fact, I think he would make it better." He reached into a drawer and pulled out two copies of Nero's credentials and handed the papers over to his sons. "He is really intelligent and he's no pushover either. He studied at the best university in the state and he obtained the highest marks in his class. His achievements are exquisite in terms of the recognition he has received over the years, and it would be stupid for us not to hire him. Yes, we don't utilise the normal recruitment procedure like many others do, but that's why we've been so successful over the years. Plus-" the boss moved closer for the final piece of juicy gossip "-he's part demon."

Vergil's pupils dilated to the size of pineapples. "How do you kn-"

"When you grill him, ask him about the bandage on his right arm. The two of you see through people like there's no tomorrow, so I need you to confirm the hunch. Not that I need confirmation, but I'd rather take this matter at face value than jump to all sorts of conclusions." The leg underneath him felt dead and he struggled to swap it with the other; gravity brought the familiar unwelcomed tingle in his leg as it was pumped back to life. "Get him to talk. Press his buttons. Do whatever you need to make him crack. I need to know his thresholds. If he has none, even better, then I know he won't take any crap from the two for you."

Vergil looked hurt; Dante was humorously indifferent. "We don't give you crap, father-"

Dante snorted and nearly choked on his own laughter. "Yes, we do, Vergil. It's mainly you, but I don't mind sharing the blame. Because I love you as a person and deeply respect you-"

"Oh shut up, Dante. You still owe me for eating my frosted flakes last week. Don't try to butter me up, it won't bloody work." Dante held his hands over his heart feigning a wounded pain in his chest and Vergil punched him in the arm, harmonious laughter connecting the twins.

Their father couldn't help but smile at his boys; moments like these were very rare, and it was seldom that he would ever ask them to interrogate a new employee they would be working under. He had done it many times before, but mainly with the superior employees taking their role. The power dynamic on display would be interesting to watch. "We have a deal? Can I take you two with me? Test the waters a bit?" The twins looked at each other and nodded simultaneously with gleaming smiles. "Great. I need you in uniform for this as well. For believability." Their smiles grew bigger – not only were they going to legally provoke their new boss, a dream that they both heartily shared, but they would do it whilst looking uncontrollably drop dead gorgeous.

"We can really say anything we want?"

Their father nodded. "I will be there not as your father and not as your boss. If he decides to suffocate one of you or vice versa, there has to be a witness. It probably would happen, knowing the two of you, and selfishly I cannot miss that."

Dante grew uneasy at his words. It wasn't gelling too well in his stomach. "Father, he stands no chance against us-"

"I wouldn't bet on that just yet, Dante. That arm is quite something. He's a young man, and a temper comes standard with his model." He stood and smoothed his apparel, flicking off flecks of dust that fell at his shoulders. "I also think he is at the stage in his life where, if given the chance, he'd hump anything that moves or tastes like fruit. Flirting isn't prohibited, but proceed with caution. That is something I would choose not to save you from." He paid particular attention to give Vergil a stare with the last sentence. His son blushed a cherry red and Dante fell forward in his chair clutching his belly.

"The boy is extremely observant – try your utmost to be professional. We can all have a good chuckle in the end, but I need your best 'try to fuck with me' faces for a solid ten minutes. Do I make myself clear?" Their father couldn't be serious if he tried, and the threat was empty. After a mutual 'yes sir' from the two, he left to his office to check on the soon to be victim.

Nero twiddled his thumbs when the big boss waltzed into his office carrying a small stack of papers. "Sorry I took so long; the printer was having a mid-life crisis." Nero smiled as he straightened up and his boss placed the wad in front of him. "So this is the official offer we will be making to you. We believe that you possess all the qualifications, strengths and potentials needed to grow in the best way possible in our corporation. In front of you are your terms and conditions of employment: your remuneration, leave days, healthcare benefits, notice period, expected working hours and all the other legal mumbo jumbo are stipulated therein. You are more than welcome to take the contract home, sift through it and bring it back to us by tomorrow-"

"Or I can sign it now and comb over the details later?" Nero had already located a pen and hovered over the area that needed his signature.

"Or that." His boss smiled that charming smile of his once again and the younger man almost smudged his name. He handed Nero a second copy to sign. "You can keep the first one. This one is for safekeeping in the vault." He signed the other and folded his own copy neatly, pocketing the contract in the compartment his expensive suit hid with ease. The big man stood and extended his hand to Nero. "Welcome aboard, Nero. I'm sure you are going to have an amazing future with us. Oh, my apologies. I'm Sparda, Managing Director for this specific branch of the company. Call me anything other than that and I will eat your liver in front of you." Sparda left his vast desk and made his way to his own private bar, homing a cornucopia of alcohol. "You drink Scotch? Or are you not a man just yet?"

Nero's alcoholic expertise ranged from ciders to flavoured vodka, and those already packed a heavy punch. "I will have my first with you then, Sparda."

"Fantastic." Sparda drew four crystal tumblers from a nearby cupboard and laid them neatly in a row; adding two ice blocks to one of them, he skilfully poured the clear brown liquid to the same level of each. He added a smaller dash to the one with the ice for good luck and handed it to Nero. They clinked their glasses and both took a long mouthful at the amber liquid: Sparda revelled in the burn left in its wake, but Nero felt as though he had swallowed smooth molten lava, its third degree aftereffects clinging to his oesophagus. A painful cough was all he could muster – he didn't need to add fuel to the fire in his stomach. "Haha! Don't worry kid, you'll get used to it working with me." Sparda finished the rest of his drink in one gulp and moved behind the bar to pour himself another. "Well, with the formalities done with, I would like one last thing from you." He snaked closer to his new employee, tipping Nero's glass upward with his fingertips, urging another sip. He obeyed politely, and the second sip wasn't as bad as the first. "Because of the extensive workload for the finance division, we have allocated two managers each to the members of the Executive Committee; whether it is splitting the work among yourselves or simply for research purposes, use them as you see fit. Yes, you are now officially one of us, and it would be great if you could meet them both before you leave. I can have them here in two minutes, if your schedule isn't too busy?"

That explained the remaining two glasses. "I'd love to." Nero flaunted his best coy smile over the tumbler, biting the smooth glass edges.

Sparda caught sight of the miniscule gesture and cocked an eyebrow sexily. "Better save that for the twins. They are the ones you need to impress." A knock sounded on his office door as he finished half of his glass. He went to answer it and playfully squeezed Nero on the shoulder as he passed-

Wait. Did he just say twins?

Excitement turned to absolute dread as he heard the door open and two new pairs of footsteps walk along the carpet. Respected greetings and handshakes exchanged between them as Nero felt the molten lava rise to his cheeks. Maybe it was a different pair of twins and not the ones he had seen when he first entered the office? The ones he stored in the 'fuck now, ask questions later' pile? He mentally crossed his fingers that when he turned to face them he would not be greeted by their signature white hair. Sparda noticed his near empty glass and approached Nero quickly, startling him when his fingers accidentally grazed his to capture his glass. "Can I top you up?" Nero threw the remnants back in one motion and handed it over, nodding enthusiastically. He would need all the liquid courage he could get. His eyes followed Sparda as he handed his drink over, grabbed the other two and made his way to the men waiting behind him. Nero rotated slowly and wasted no time drinking in the sight before him: two identical faces, suits, and builds were angled in his general direction; the one with the fringe ruffled it between his fingers as he stood with his hands on his hips, his pants hanging at a delicious position down his body; he took his drink with contained delight and took a shy sip, his eyes rolling into his skull at the burn in his throat. The other had his hands in his pockets and mimicked his brother's actions upon receiving his drink. The twins caught his stare and they simultaneously fidgeted with their ties, the only evident difference in their attire. One was a deep crimson, the other a Persian blue. He couldn't rely on that being the only way to tell them apart, so he walked over to them with what diminishing confidence he had left. He stood motionless as their overwhelming presences enraptured his senses and sucked the oxygen from his lungs, leaving him unable to speak. Sparda giggled mid sip at Nero as the twins waited for an introduction. He swallowed quickly and moved his glass around the newly-formed square. "Nero, meet Dante and Vergil. They are the managers allocated to the finance department." His boss had not made clear which twin was which, so he gambled on finding out on his own. He bit his glass nervously and turned to the one hiding his face with the red tie. "You look like a Vergil."

Neither of the two could take offense – they were indistinguishable. "As much fun as that sounds, kid, I'm the other one." Dante pushed his hair behind his ear, revealing a stunning pair of icy cerulean blue eyes. "Speaking for Vergil, he thanks you for the compliment. People always get our names correct because I'm better looking."

Vergil had just taken a sip of his Scotch and battled to swallow it quickly enough. "Oh you fucking wish-"

"And he's the one with the potty mouth." Okay, so at least they sounded different. Nero was able to pick up the subtle differences in their voices and made a mental note to look out for them in future. Phone calls might still be a nightmare though.

Sparda halted their sibling quarrel by pointing to the soft couches in front of the bar. "How about we get comfy, hmmm? Get to know each other better? Drink some more? God forbid, we all need to get drunk after today." He led the small group across the room and they chose their seats carefully, with Nero getting first choice. He opted for the single cushioned high-back against the wall, giving him an undisturbed view of the other three tantalizing men surrounding him. Concentrating in this environment was going to be undeniably difficult. Sparda returned with another round of drinks; Nero removed his blazer and folded it over the cushiony arm, his bandaged arm on full display. The sudden removal of clothing sent a ripple of power through the room, only to be detected by his colleagues. As Nero reached for the tumbler closest to him, the twins noted a faint cobalt glow from under the faded white material. He retreated to his seat, drink in hand, and waited for the other men to start talking. He watched them copiously as they swirled their alcohol in their glasses, clearly waiting for him to start. Nero cleared his throat and three curious sets of blue turned his way.

"So, what do you want to kn-"

"What happened to your arm, Nero?" Dante spoke first, his lips pursing and his head tilting to the side. His inquisitiveness was adorable to behold; that look must have gotten him out of trouble countless times. Fuck it, he could get away with murder with that face.

"Nothing. Apparently I'm part demon and this is what I have to show for it." Nero took a sip and watched the three over the rim of his glass. "What? Did you think you would have to work harder for that answer?" He examined the contents of his glass as it were the most interesting thing on the planet. "I have nothing to hide. I'm sure big boss over there already knew. But what I can tell you is that I have no clue how or when it happened. I don't use it at all. I don't even know what it does except for this." Nero took his time to unwrap the demonic limb, but Vergil grew impatient; a small flick of his wrist and a blue translucent sword sliced the air down the middle of his arm, and the material exploded from it, falling in tatters to the floor. He held Vergil's gaze as he reached to the countertop and a bigger version of his arm warped from thin air: he filled everyone's glass and replaced it, not garnering the expressions of the people around him and exhaled deeply – the action took a lot of energy to control. "I'm guessing this is some ruse to rile me up, getting me to spill some magic beans about my past or some bad trauma I've experienced over the years – truth is you can ask me what you want. I don't remember much of my childhood; only that I was in and out of hospital at any given time because of my arm. I read a lot of books and taught myself to code, got lucky with some accounting firm for a program I created and they paid for my studies and gave me a job when I completed them. Shit hit the fan when I told my boss off and I was sacked with a tonne of hush money. Next question."

Sparda swapped legs in his trademark sitting position. "Well, this is a bust."

"It isn't. Like I've said, there's very little to me. I'm by no means complicated in any manner of speaking. There's no point on keeping things to myself in a tiny box that has been empty for twenty five years, but I enjoy what I do and I've yielded the results." He leaned forward on his knees, playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck. "And if I can say one more thing: I had no idea this was a family affair. I am a strict professional at the best of times and I will not treat your sons any differently from anyone else. I will praise them when the need arises, and I will reprimand if they catch on crap – that I can guarantee you."

Sparda was impressed. He hid his exhilaration behind his slowly-emptying glass. His sons looked coolly at their new boss, also captivated by the size of Nero's balls. They did not take lightly to being told what to do, but they nevertheless respected him for his manner of speaking and his proficient approach to the situation. "Yes, you may be older, and yes, you may have more experience than me, but I trust that we could learn from each other for as long as I'm here. I will not go out of my way to embarrass you in front of any person or group of people, but if you're wrong you're wrong, and I will call you out on it. We have a common goal. Working toward it as a team is so much more productive than fighting with each other about how we would reach it individually." Nero grabbed at his empty glass and sucked on one of the two melting ice blocks.

The twins exchanged looks with each other and their father respectively. "Seems like we've got our work cut out for us, brother." Dante finished his drink in one mouthful and bit the corner of his lip; he heavily underestimated the man sitting in front of him and he was pleasantly surprised at how commanding, authoritative, and straightforward he portrayed himself. He wasn't intimidated by the obvious immense powerhouses seated with him; he took his job seriously, even though he had no clue what it entailed. It was sexy to watch him claim responsibility for them and their work, and he anticipated a successful working relationship between Nero and himself. Vergil, on the other hand, wasn't too convinced of his true intentions behind his pep talk. Did he truly mean what he said or was he saying it because it's what they wanted to hear? He admired the drive the young man possessed, but was it enough for a seamless fit into the company?

"Have your balls even dropped yet, Nero?" Vergil's voice was deadpan and void of humour. His brother and father on the other hand snorted in their throats at the unexpected outburst from his usually stoic façade.

The comment didn't faze Nero in the least. "They have. They aren't exactly on the floor where yours are dangling, but I'm sure that they will be in about two hundred years' time."

Dante howled from his spot on the couch, biting his fist at the sure burn degree of Nero's reply. He gave up sparing his brother's feelings and doubled over the arm of the couch, laughing to the floor at full volume. Sparda giggled and tried to empty his glass but couldn't hold a straight face long enough to hold and swallow the liquid, and eventually gave up, wiping the tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. Nero hoped to hell they possessed some sense of humour, and was relieved when he heard two-toned laughter vibrate through the room. Vergil couldn't hinder the smile that crept across his features and Nero lost himself in it, albeit for a short moment. Sparda rose from his seat and tugged at Dante's collar; his son was on all fours on the floor and moved swiftly to join his father. Their laughs continued as the door clicked into place.

"Congratulations. You've managed to achieve what very few have accomplished."

"Which would be?" Nero gaped at the empty glasses they held and made a valiant effort to rise from his chair to fill them. The Scotch juxtaposed his working muscles and he stood wobbling in place, breathing deeply to stop the room from spinning. Gratefully it only lasted a few seconds and he was back to normal, stealing Vergil's glass to pour another round.

"You reduced two higher level demons to hysterical messes."

There was something about Vergil that intrigued Nero to wit's end. The prickling question was speedily answered when Vergil's hands found their way to Nero's hips, his mouth hovering dangerously on the heated flesh that was Nero's ear. "I'll get you for this."

Nero turned his head and their lips were an inch apart. "Just not after 9pm, okay? Would hate for you to miss your bedtime." He poured himself one last drink and threw his head back to ease the travel to his belly, resting it on Vergil's shoulder. He held it there for the last remnants to drip onto his tongue: Vergil pulled him flush against his body and Nero's inhibitions lost efficacy – a tiny stream of Scotch edged out of the corner of Nero's mouth and the man behind him twisted his tongue to lick his jaw clean. Nero's eyes rolled into his head at feeling Vergil's tongue on his flesh.

"Everyone is waiting for you outside." He licked at his earlobe and bit down cruelly. "Don't disappoint them." Vergil disappeared into thin air, seeming to join the crowd outside the office. Nero cracked a few bones to relieve small pockets of stress that accumulated between his fingers – a last glance in a tiny mirror at the bar and he journeyed out of Sparda's office. The crowd had collected at the threshold and a big cheer erupted from the fifty or so employees gathered to congratulate him. The Scotch had turned the cheer into a nearby explosion and the new employee feared for his life as he was being hoisted onto Sparda's shoulders. His head still spun as Sparda's voice boomed effortlessly around the room. "PEOPLE, HEAR MY VOICE. I HAVE HERE THE NEWEST AND YOUNGEST MEMBER OF OUR EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE. ISNT HE TOO ADORABLE?" The crowd cheered in agreement. "LET'S SHOW HIM WHAT IT MEANS TO BE PART OF THIS COMPANY, SHALL WE." Another deep cheer from below. Nero scanned the room for Vergil and saw him disappear behind a concealed exit of some sort. Their eyes met and the older man bit the corner of his lip and nudged his head in the direction of the door, seamlessly dissolving behind it. Sparda lowered Nero to the ground and spoke in his ear, a familiar tingle hurrying down his spine. "Welcome to Devil May Cry." The crowd noisily clinked their glasses in unison and drank merrily.

Dante stealthily made his way to the control room of the building, locating the console and switchboard that controlled the internal security camera system. He stylishly claimed a swivel chair and rolled to the vast number of controls. Tapping a few numbers into a keyboard, he reached camera 407 in the back corridor joining forensics and legal; the employees hardly used the passage owing to the new renovations that had taken place the previous year that rendered that specific passage redundant. Upon closer inspection, the near-perfect zoom observed his older brother in a deep kiss with their new boss in the upper right corner of the screen. Vergil laced his fingers with Nero's and held them above his head, grinding his hips deeper into the wall. Dante watched with an ashamed smile on his face as Vergil's hands sank and busied themselves with Nero's bottom half, and a metal clang could be heard through the camera signalling Nero's only form of protection falling to the floor. Dante was impressed again – his boss was hung like a horse.

Vergil wasted no time in tantalising Nero's eager skin with his tongue, pausing below his belly button and nibbling at the tender skin just above his erection. A small moan escaped the younger man's lungs as his right leg was thrown over Vergil's shoulder, his solid arm encircling to lock it into place, and Nero's tip disappeared into Vergil's mouth. Dante, as a precautionary action, had already typed the codes into the system to pause the recording on the camera; one press of the enter key on the console and the act before him would be erased from its internal memory, but being the naughty boy that he was, he decided to watch some of the action – his finger hovered over the key, but waited for the opportune moment to cut the footage. He looked back to the monitor and glanced at Nero throwing his head into the wall and leaning forward into Vergil's mouth; his brother had taken him deep in his throat and leaned his face to the right, giving Dante a full view of his teeth scuffing Nero's base. Dante could practically hear the scream scorching Nero's lungs judging by the persistent contorting expression on his face. It took all of Dante's strength to push the key and the image stabilised, and two small parallel lines at the top left corner emerged on the screen. He switched the corresponding monitor to display footage from a different camera and rested his legs on the elevated console, being careful not to touch any buttons or keys that would reverse his efforts.

Vergil wouldn't complain about the missing frosted flakes any time soon.


End file.
